


Paragon

by Tyranno



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, House prejudices, Wizard!batkids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5411513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyranno/pseuds/Tyranno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Paragon, noun: person or thing regarded as a perfect example of a particular quality.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Damian is the Paragon of a Slytherin, and it comes with a lot less glory than he would expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paragon

**Author's Note:**

> Importing works from elsewhere, so, crossposted to a couple places. I keep writing things that are too long to be drabbles and too short imo to be a proper oneshot.

“What's the sorting like?”

Dick glances over at his youngest brother, perched on the edge of his seat like he's just waiting for something terrible to happen. He was eleven years old now, small and dark, with the eyes and temperament of a wild animal.

Dick shrugs, glancing to the corner where Tim was stirring. “It's not too bad.”

“You only have to fight a wild Ogre.” Tim rubs at his sleep-gummed eyes. “It's not fun, I still have nightmares.”

Dick shoots him a glare as Damian bristles. “You lie!” Damian snarls, eyes darting around. “It's not true, else you'd have never passed.”

“Oh, really? Have you ever seen me against an Ogre? I'm incredible.” Tim rubs his arms. “I completely wiped the floor with him. After I was finished, they had to hold everyone up to get a new Ogre.”

“It's not true, is it, Grayson?” Damian growls, fear flashing in his eyes.

Dick sighs. “It's not true.”

Tim grumbles, settling back down. “Party pooper.”

“Ha, I knew it, Drake. You're a terrible liar.” Damian unconsciously pulls his cloak, drawing it closer. The triumph in his voice is split through with relief.

“What do you care, brat?” Tim shoots him a sleepy glare, “You're a Slytherin anyway.”

Damian's face reddens, but he says nothing. He tugs at his cloak and blankets closer, curling up in the corner.

Nobody speaks for the remainder of the train journey.

* * *

 

The black, cold water parts for the boats like ink. The breeze peels from the waves, slants through their cloaks and sends chills down their spines.

The castle looms, a spear of black darker than the night around it. The candles barely separate the darkness, isolated yellow eyes.

It's so overwhelmingly huge, a gigantic monster squatted on the hills.

Damian doesn't think he's ever felt this unwelcome.

* * *

 

Damian doesn't think anything when the sorting hat drops over his eyes.

He has decided, over and over, that what would happen would happen. He is not the kind to be held back by mere scorn, he cannot be tethered by snarls and insults. He has been raised better.

But he can't stop the racing of his heart, the terrible panic that churns like a fever brewing in his gut. It's horrible, a deep fear that tears at his chest and makes his vision blur.

Damian presses his hands to his knees to stop the shaking.

“SLYTHERIN!” The hat booms.

Damian stumbles upwards.

Boos and jeers shake from the tables, rebounding from the sharp stone walls, echoing to an endless thunder of sound.

He feels his face heat, and his legs are weak, he manages a stuttering jog over to the Slytherin table.

* * *

 

The Slytherin common room is cold, a balm to Damian's frazzled nerves.  He takes a seat closest to the fire, tugging at a textbook, fingers numb.

Somewhere above him, he thinks he can feel the weight of the lake. Not a physical pressure, but it was like sitting in a deep cave, the air tasted of an indescribable weight.

The fire flickers gently, smooth twists of flame dulling his mind. He sniffles.

“Hey…” Someone says, and Damian starts.

“Dick?!” He half-yelps.

Dick grins, teeth flashing in the firelight. He settles down in the armchair opposite him. “I thought you'd be here.”

“Of course I'm here,” Damian snapped, “It's my house's common room now. How come you're here?!”

“It's just a password, Dami,” Dick scuffles the chair closer, wincing at the sharp noise it makes.

Damian sighs, and gathers the cloak back around himself, trying to sink into the chair and disappear. Dick will want to start his whole charade, preaching about houses and how they're all equal and the prejudice against the Slytherin house is idiotic and not worth thinking about. Damian's already heard it at least three times.

Dick looks at him. His eyes are inhumanly blue in the firelight. “It doesn't matter if you're in Slytherin, Damian.”

Damian rolls his eyes, huffing.

“I mean it,” Dick gives him a small smile. “Slytherins are actually—”

“Shut up.” Damian snaps.

Dick closes his blue, blue eyes, and when he opens them they don't catch the light anymore. “Okay, okay. Want to play Wizard Chess?”

Damian moves reluctantly, shifting the cloak from his shoulders. He doesn't want to play, but he knows how Dick gets when someone in his family's upset. Dick will feel useless and restless, trying to find a way to blame himself when he isn't cooking up dramatic ways to win back their good mood.

The chess board snaps into place, the chess pieces zoom into their spots the second they're released. In the firelight it's hard to see what colour they are. Dick doesn't waste any time making the first move, eager to disrupt the heavy mood.

Damian moves mechanically, barely thinking about the pieces. For once, there is no rush of competition, no eagerness to prove something in his victory. He knows Dick wants him to enjoy this, wants his fire to relight at the challenge, but it doesn't work. He doesn't feel excited.

He feels hollow.


End file.
